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2007-06-11, 09:03:41 Have you heard of those experiments, where biologists mess with a wasp by removing an insect it has caught from its nest? These wasps, called tarantula hawks , catch and kill a tarantula, drag it back to her nest so she can lay an egg in the spider's abdomen. When the larvaw hatches, it's got a ready-made meal to scarf down. But these wasps operate on very simple rules. They drag their prey up to the entry of their hole, then they enter their hole alone, to make sure there's not another predator in there or something. Then go back outside and grab their prey and drag it back inside. To see how much of this is learned, thinking behavior, and how much is ingrained, programmed behavior, researchers tried messing with these wasps. When the wasp went inside its hole to check things out, the researchers would move the dead tarantula a little farther from where the wasp left it, near the entrance to the hole. When the wasp comes out to get the tarantula, the spider isn't right where they left it. It's a bit farther away, and this resets the wasp's whole program from bringing the spider into the nest. So then the wasp drags the spider back up to closer to the hole again, then goes into the hole again to check it out—even though the wasp just did this seconds before. Each time the wasp enters the hole, the researchers dragged the spider a little ways away, and the wasp would start its process over again each time. They could do this over and over, and the wasp never got it, and never got the spider into its nest. Sometimes I feel like that wasp: automatic and dumb. About a month ago, my bike got stolen. I think the reason was that I just forgot to lock it up. I had that bike for 10 years, and it was my main mode of transportation, and I don't think I ever that before. I don't remember ever coming back to my bike and realizing, "Oh shit, I forgot to lock it up. But I'm lucky, because no one ripped it off!" I think I forgot to lock my bike that day because when I got off my bike, I got distracted and was looking at the new bike seat I'd just bought on my way home. I think I have an automatic kind of program in my mind for locking my bike, and if I get distracted, I skip the whole thing and don't even notice. So now I've got a replacement bike, and the first time I locked up, on the way to the coffee shop, I got distracted looking at the bike lock mounter I put on the bike. Then I started to walk away, with my bike lock in hand and my bike unlocked. I would be incredibly pissed if I forgot to lock my replacement bike and it got stolen—especially on the first day I had it. All this makes me wonder how much of what we do is automatic and unthinking. It makes me realize how much of the time I'm sort of drifting through life without being aware of what's happening around me. It reminds me, too, of one of these kind-of-hackneyed "Zen master" stories: After ten years of apprenticeship, Tenno achieved the rank of Zen teacher. One rainy day, he went to visit the famous master Nan-in. When he walked in, the master greeted him with a question, "Did you leave your wooden clogs and umbrella on the porch?" "Yes," Tenno replied. "Tell me," the master continued, "did you place your umbrella to the left of your shoes, or to the right?" Tenno did not know the answer, and realized that he had not yet attained full awareness. So he became Nan-in's apprentice and studied under him for ten more years. |